Like An Alien
by scarlettshazam
Summary: Tweek and Craig are fake boyfriends, until they're not. Creek/Smut/Oneshot.


**Like An Alien**

 **Soundtrack: Alien – Britney Spears**

It happened gradually. Sure, they faked it at first. It made everyone happy. Their friends, their parents…and all Tweek and Craig had to do was sit around and hang out. They shot the shit and played video games, stayed up all night knocking back coffees dosed with heavy dashes of Bailey's, or, if not that, then whatever else they could pilfer from their parents' respective liquor cabinets without being caught.

The fact that everyone was so cool with their "relationship" might have helped move shit along. Token and Clyde didn't bat a damn lash when Craig slipped an arm around Tweek at lunchtime. Craig's dad didn't even look at them funny anymore when he stepped in from work at the office and found Craig with his feet propped up on the coffee table, watching Star Trek reruns with Tweek passed out, sprawled across his lap.

High school was hard enough as it was, okay? And it was nice, or whatever, to have somebody to rely on to just _be there._ It's not like they did anything but hang out and hold hands, anyway. Tweek's hands were cold. Always, inevitably, cold – unless he wrapped his fingers around a mug of hot coffee, or let Craig warm them up between his own.

Craig liked spending afternoons and weekends just hanging around with Tweek. He preferred to be alone a lot of the time, but with Tweek at his side it was almost as if Craig was alone…together with someone. That didn't make sense. But it was true. Being with Tweek was as natural as being by himself was. On his own, Craig watched Twilight Zone and Cosmos in his underwear and ate Hot Pockets. With Tweek, Craig watched Twilight Zone and Cosmos in his underwear and ate Hot Pockets. Simple as that. Being with Tweek was like breathing.

On one such planned evening, Craig already set out a jumbo bag of Hot Cheetos and rolled himself into a burrito blanket by the time that Tweek ran headlong into his bedroom without as much as a knock. Their whatever-it-was relationship was in too deep for knocking, anyway.

"I made it!" Tweek exclaimed.

Craig paused Cosmos and groaned from his blanket nest, "Do you have to yell? You made what?"

"The play, asshat," Tweek said. He closed Craig's bedroom door behind him and leapt onto his bed, peeled back the layers of blankets and settled against the warmth of Craig's chest before he wrapped the blankets around them again. Craig shifted to wrap his arm around Tweek's thin frame. The guy really could have used some extra pounds, but no matter what Tweek shoved down his trash compactor throat, he never put on an ounce of fat. Were that Craig's own luck, he thought with a pointed glance to his cushy belly.

"So you got in the play?" Craig said.

Tweek nodded. He didn't say anything at first, and then said, "I was scared, y'know. At the auditions. I thought I was gonna lose it and I didn't know how the fuck I would handle it if I screwed it up, but I didn't screw it up, and they're calling me back. So, I mean…I guess I didn't make it-make it. But I sort of did!"

"It counts," Craig said, "You want a Hot Cheeto?"

Tweek wrinkled his nose. "No way, man," he said, "I just downed like two and a half pumpkin spice lattes –"

"So fucking basic," muttered Craig.

Tweek smacked his arm and said, " _Anyway_. I just had a metric shit ton of coffee and man, you remember. Hot Cheetos and coffee do not mix."

"I could make you something," Craig offered.

"Agh – your culinary skills are limited," Tweek pointed out.

"I can microwave you a Hot Pocket, you ungrateful shit," Craig corrected.

Tweek snorted out a laugh and said, "I'm good, man, I'm good. But thanks. I'm too hype to be hungry."

"That's it," Craig said, and unrolled himself from their blanket burrito, "I'm making you a Hot Pocket, and you'll eat it, dude. If I don't feed you, you'll never eat."

Tweek didn't complain when Craig wrestled a t-shirt from space camp over his head and opened his bedroom door again. Craig inclined his head at the open doorway and Tweek bundled himself up in a robe-slash-cape of blankets before he padded out behind him. In the kitchen, Craig's dad sat pouring over some kind of paperwork, which always put the guy in a weird mood. Still, Thomas lifted his head and acknowledged, "Heya, Tweek."

"H-Hi, Mr. Tucker," Tweek stammered.

Craig fumbled under Tweek's blanketed exterior to find his hand and give it a squeeze. For years, they'd been "together", and Craig's dad still made Tweek nervous. Craig didn't blame him, really. Thomas Tucker was an imposing man: broad-shouldered, tall, beer gut and some serious eyebrows. Eyebrows that he passed along to Craig, naturally. He couldn't have left that nice piece of genetics out of the picture. Craig's sister had normal eyebrows, but no, Craig couldn't have preceded her with something of the same nature.

"How's school going?" Thomas asked.

Tweek swallowed, visibly nervous. He answered, "I got a callback for the play."

"That's great news, kiddo. Great news. Just remember you can't feed a family bein' an actor," Thomas said.

Craig rolled his eyes as he removed a Hot Pocket from the freezer and arranged it in the microwave. He punched in the time and leaned over to say against Tweek's ear, "Don't listen to him."

"I-I'm trying," Tweek muttered back.

Craig silently willed the Hot Pocket to cook faster, but sadly, the multiverse did not work that way. They still had to wait it out in awkward silence with his dad tapping his ballpoint pen against the kitchen table before he and Tweek escaped upstairs with a plated Hot Pocket and a couple of cans of store brand sodas.

"What even is the play?" asked Craig, once his bedroom door was shut safely behind them both, and Tweek started to arrange the blankets back into a nest on Craig's sloppily made bed, his Hot Pocket placed primly on top of his skinny-ass legs.

"Mmerrr," Tweek said, "Some reworked Shakespeare something or other. It's 'modernized' or whatever."

"Like Shakespeare needed any more dick jokes. Can I play the episode?"

"G-Go for it."

Craig made himself at home in the blanket nest before he flicked the episode of Cosmos back to life. He'd already watched the series about a thousand times through, but that didn't make any of it less interesting. His dad said the same shit to Craig about being an astronaut as he said to Tweek about being an actor. It wasn't profitable. Go into business, get a real job, then you can feed your brood of adopted kids you two will have some day. And maybe Craig was being optimistic for a millennial, but he fully intended to feed himself as an astronaut. In space, just to make that clear. He would go to space, and no one – not his dad, or any other motherfucker with an opinion – was going to stop him.

"You'll make it in the play," Craig said, "Just so you know."

"You're way more confident about that than I am," Tweek said.

"Well, they called you back, didn't they?" Craig said. He watched Tweek gnaw on the Hot Pocket out of the corner of his eye. Tweek was kinda cute, if you got past the fact that he needed to brush his fucking hair, or that puberty hit the guy like a brick wall and he was too tall for his skinny body. He'd probably fill out once they made it out of high school. By then Craig might just be dumpy.

"Everyone knows I freak out," Tweek sighed, "They'll probably give me some part where I don't say anything so I don't spaz out."

"You don't freak out around me," Craig observed.

"You don't count," Tweek shot back.

"Why don't I count?" asked Craig, "I'm your boyfriend, asshole."

"Pretend boyfriend."

"Would a real boyfriend make you more nervous?" asked Craig.

Tweek shrugged one shoulder and answered, "Probably. I don't know. I-I can't imagine being with anyone else. You're like my best friend and shit. Who else is supposed to match up to that, man? No one. No one else will let me sleep on them during their favorite show or make stupid dick jokes with bad timing. Everyone else thinks I'm weird."

"You are weird," Craig said.

Tweek shot him a _look_.

Craig didn't know why he did it. It was just – Tweek looked so good right then, with his fuckin' weird eyes. One blue, one green, and his crooked smile with his glow in the dark braces. So, yeah, the obvious reaction to _damn I like his braces_ was to kiss him, right? Right.

Tweek's lips were soft from grease and he tasted like cheese and pepperoni. It should have been gross but it wasn't. It wasn't gross at all. Craig pressed his lips against Tweek's harder, and Tweek made a rumbling, surprised noise under the pressure. It wasn't until then that Craig noticed Tweek was flailing a little.

Oh, shit.

"Shit, dude," Craig said, "I'm sorry, I didn't, I mean –"

"Why did you _do that_?" demanded Tweek, looking much less inviting now that he looked like strangling Craig might be a good idea.

"Um," Craig managed.

"Um?" repeated Tweek, " _Um_? You put your mouth on my mouth and all you have to say about it is _um_?"

"Um," Craig said again, "Yeah?"

Tweek smacked Craig's arm. Hard.

"Ow!" Craig cried, and rubbed his arm, "What was that for?"

"For kissing me without telling me why," Tweek said.

"Okay but like," Craig started, "my reason for why was stupid."

And Tweek said, "I don't care. Tell me anyway."

Craig sighed and shifted in the blanket nest. He rubbed his face, and found himself wishing that he looked better than he did in that moment. Like, he could probably be at least a little more sexually appealing? Maybe if he didn't have Hot Cheeto breath then this wouldn't be so damn hard.

Grabbing at the back of his neck, Craig admitted, "I just thought…like, I dunno. Your braces looked cool and your eyes looked nice. So I kissed you, I guess."

"Oh," said Tweek.

"What does that mean?" Craig asked.

"I j-just didn't think you actually wanted to kiss me," Tweek replied.

"Why wouldn't I want to?" asked Craig, "You've got a nice face and stuff and you never get bored of watching Trek with me and you're cool. So, yeah. I kissed you. I guess."

"Can you do it again?"

"Why?"

"Because I didn't have a chance to decide if I liked it or not," Tweek reasoned, "So we should do it again. For sc-science."

"That's smart," Craig said, "We can't form a conclusion until we've done it at least a couple times."

"What happens if we like it?" asked Tweek.

Craig bit down on his lower lip and said, "We keep going 'til it stops being fun?"

"That sounds like a good p-plan."

So they kissed again. And again. And again and again and again, and somewhere in the mix the pecks became longer, stickier…sexier. Tweek probed along the seam of Craig's lips with the tip of his tongue and Craig let him lick inside his mouth. Kissing like this always sounded kind of gross in theory, but in practice, it was actually awesome. He rested his hand on Tweek's cheek for leverage and pulled him in closer.

All at once, Craig was on top of Tweek and Tweek was on his back on the bed, squirming underneath Craig in their nest of blankets while Carl Sagan serenaded them in the background. Craig's lava lamp cast a blue-green glow on the room and somehow, it was perfect. It was all…perfect.

When Craig and Tweek split apart to breathe, Craig said, "Okay, I really liked it. Now what?"

"We k-keep going, right?"

Craig nodded, and Tweek surged up to kiss Craig again. This time it was harder, more desperate. Craig felt himself lose his grip on reality as his dick started to harden in his boxers, and Christ, they weren't even sexy boxers or anything, they had fucking hedgehogs on them and he was wearing a space camp t-shirt. Why couldn't he be sexier, why did he have to look like such a fucking nerd –

"C-Craig," Tweek said.

"What?"

"You're thinking too hard," said Tweek. He reached up, his hand trembling just a little, and ran his fingers back through Craig's dark hair. His hands, as usual, were cold. Craig shivered, but it was more out of anticipation and anxiety than it was the cold fingers scratching gently against his scalp.

"Usually I tell you that," Craig said.

"I know," Tweek said, "This t-time I'm t-telling you."

"Why are you kissing me back?" Craig asked, suddenly, "I told you why I kissed you. Why are you kissing me?"

Tweek looked pensive. He answered after a beat of silence, "You're an astronaut and I'm an alien. We go together."

To somebody else, it might not have made sense, but it made sense to Craig. He smiled like an idiot and kissed Tweek again. Their limbs shifted and through the fabric of Tweek's jeans and his dumbass hedgehog boxers, he felt Tweek's erection slide against his own. A surprised moan made it past Craig's lips. He didn't expect that to feel so good. Why did it feel so damn good? It was like twenty times better than any kind of self-love he gave his dick in the shower.

"Can I take your shirt off?" whispered Craig.

Tweek didn't say anything, but he nodded. Craig slid his hands underneath Tweek's t-shirt, fittingly for them both a classic UFO shirt that read "I WANT TO BELIEVE." With care, Craig let his hands drift up along Tweek's pale, flat abdomen, over the gentle ridges of his ribs, down his sides…before he pushed the t-shirt over Tweek's head and threw it on the ground, where it blended in with the mountain of dirty laundry that made up his bedroom floor.

"You should take yours off, too," Tweek reasoned.

"Yeah," Craig said, but he was too entranced by topless Tweek to actually do anything about it. He was pale, smooth – and he had freckles on his shoulders.

"Craig," Tweek said. This time, he tugged on the hem of Craig's t-shirt and said, "Take this off. Please. Dickhead."

"Don't call me dickhead, douchebag."

"You're a douchebag, shitface."

Craig let out a laugh and hung his head, tucking his forehead against Tweek's bony shoulder. He couldn't stop laughing, because damn, this was ridiculous. He was checking out his topless best friend and he loved it. He fucking loved it. What bullshit was that? He didn't care. Craig sat back on his heels, straddling Tweek's lap, and lifted his shirt up over his hair. His long hair stood on end with the static electricity left by the friction of his shirt.

Suddenly, Craig wasn't worried about being sexy anymore. Not with the way that Tweek was looking at him, his weird eyes all soft and dumb-looking, and that goofy, lopsided smile showing off his braces. Tweek did look like an alien, but a really nice, kissable alien, so that's what Craig did. He kissed Tweek again.

They did that rubbing together thing, though somehow without shirts on dry humping seemed at least three times more potent. Craig wanted to know how it would feel without pants, too. He wanted to know real bad, because he was pretty sure it would be fucking awesome. With a glance at Tweek, he reached for the fly of Tweek's jeans and undid the zipper. Tweek seemed cool with this turn of events, so Craig kept going. Unfortunately for them both, Craig wasn't all that smooth. He ended up wrestling with Tweek's jeans, which were really too tight.

"Jesus, how do you fit your dick in here?" asked Craig.

Tweek laughed at him.

"Aren't you going to help me take these off?" Craig demanded.

"No," replied Tweek, "This is way f-funnier."

Craig struggled for another minute and a half with Tweek's tight jeans until at last he shucked them off with a victorious, "HA!" which resulted in him ripping the jeans from Tweek's giant feet and in his enthusiasm falling onto the floor and knocking his head back on his dresser.

"Oh, shit," Tweek said. He scrambled up and crawled across the mattress to stare down at the floor, where Craig rubbed the tender spot on his head. He had the sense to look at least a little guilty as he asked, "You okay?"

Craig scowled, "I'd be better if you'd fuckin' helped get your pants off, ingrate."

Tweek just grinned, braces gleaming in the dim light shared by the lava lamp and the flashing of the TV screen playing Cosmos. Heat rushed to Craig's face at the sight. Long-limbed Tweek leaning over him with that stupid smile and untamed wreath of blond hair glowing greenish in the light. Craig's eyes lowered to Tweek's underwear, where beyond hedgehog-less, plain blue briefs, his erection strained, looking kind of – intimidatingly large.

"Is that your dick?" Craig incredulously said.

"No," Tweek answered without a blink, "It's the cucumber I keep in my underwear. Of c-course it's my dick, you imbecile."

"Let me see," Craig said, and scrambled up off of the carpet. He landed with a bounce on the bed and shoved Tweek back down on the mattress, intent upon getting him out of his boxer-briefs and nothing else. Tweek laughed, but this time he lent at least a modicum of assistance to the cause and lifted his skinny hips so Craig could pull his underwear down and off of his mile-long legs.

Oh. Damn. It was big.

Craig scrutinized Tweek's erection and tried to get a handle on the idea that his fake boyfriend's dick was significantly larger than his own. He finally said, "What the fuck?"

"What?" Tweek said, "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Craig said, "It's just huge, dude. You've had that in your pants the whole time and didn't share with the freaking class?"

"I didn't realize the class was i-interested," Tweek snarked back, "How come you're not naked?"

"I don't know," Craig said, "I don't look as good as you do naked."

"That's bullshit," Tweek said, "Take off your underwear."

"Jeez, fine," said Craig, "If you fucking insist." He stood back, legs wobbly, and removed the hedgehogs from sight.

"Your dick is fine. Why were you acting you weird about it?" asked Tweek.

"Gee. Thanks. I'm so flattered."

Tweek made a face. He offered Craig a hand, which Craig took, and climbed into his bed, back into the blanket nest. Now that they were both naked, this was definitely new territory. Tweek smoothed his big hand over Craig's hair and said, "I like the way you look."

"Yeah?" Craig said.

"Yeah," Tweek said.

They kissed again, pressed up against each other, skin on skin. Tweek's dick was hot and heavy against Craig's abdomen. It made Craig _want_ , made him tingle from the start of his spine all the way to his toes. He licked his dry lips to wet them and said, "I wanna…do something. Sex stuff. But your dick is not going to fit in my butt."

"You could do me," Tweek said.

"You're not afraid I'd screw up?" Craig asked.

Tweek shook his head and answered, "Nah. I t-trust you."

Craig opened his mouth to reply, but found himself wordless. Tweek trusted him. That seemed pretty big. It also seemed pretty big that they were naked together and discussing having sex the same way they discussed Captain Kirk versus Picard. Casually. But with interest. Craig said, "Give me second," and slipped off of his bed to hunt down the stuff that they'd need. He didn't have lube on hand, but he did have some lotion, and that worked okay…right?

From the bed, Tweek watched Craig, his legs bent like he was getting ready for the circus that was them attempting to fuck each other. He looked so good, so sexy like that. Craig told him as much, and a pink blush spread over Tweek's face. He mumbled something about Craig looking sexy too, and a rush of pride bloomed in the pit of Craig's stomach as he located the box of condoms his mom left on his bed years ago when he and Tweek first started "dating." He checked the expiration date just to be sure.

Okay. They were good.

He could do this.

Craig stared.

"Well," Tweek said, "Aren't you gonna do something?"

"Give me a sec," Craig said. He fumbled with the lotion and squirted way too much onto his hands. Actually, that was probably good. He wasn't exactly sure how the mechanics were going to work out in this situation but he knew enough that he knew he'd require a shit ton of lubrication somehow. Carefully, Craig parted Tweek's legs and rubbed his hand against his hole before he pressed one finger inside of him.

"S'that okay?" asked Craig.

Tweek wiggled. He said, "It's a little weird, but I like it."

While it was probably inappropriate to think of Kenny McCormick in the moment, Craig conjured up an image of Kenny giving a lewd retelling of finger-banging some dude, and tried to follow the basic instructions in the story. He worked Tweek open real slow at first, was gentle with him, working him up from one finger to two and then two to three.

"You think you could…you know. Fit me. In there?" asked Craig.

"I wanna at least t-try," Tweek answered, "C'mon, man, you're making me antsy."

Craig chuckled. He withdrew his hand from Tweek's body and tried to open a condom with little success from his uncooperative, lotion-greasy hands. He threw a new condom packet at Tweek and said, "Open this."

Tweek did, with his teeth. Instead of handing the open condom back, Tweek took the condom out of its packaging and sat up. He took Craig's dick in his hand and, with more tenderness than expected, rolled the condom on over it. Then, Tweek took the lotion bottle and pumped a whole pile into his hand. He smeared it over the condom – Craig grit his teeth to keep from making the obscene noise he wanted to – and then lay back again on the mattress.

"All right," Tweek said, "I'm ready."

Craig pushed Tweek's thighs apart, and then gripped his dick at the base. He guided himself to Tweek's wet, open hole and pushed in, just a little. He sucked in a breath at the pressure around the head of his cock and asked, "How is that? You okay?"

"Just go, fuckhead," Tweek said back.

" _Fine_ ," Craig muttered. Without any more ceremony, he pushed himself into Tweek's body.

Tweek gasped and went still.

"What?" Craig said, "What did I do? Did I hurt you?"

"Kinda," Tweek said, "I'm okay. Don't stop, or I'll hit you. I f-fucking swear."

Craig slid out of Tweek about halfway, and then pushed back in. It wasn't poised. It was messy, and he might have slipped out at one point, but once Craig got the hang of the rhythm he thrusted in and out, in and out, arms bracketed over Tweek's body with his hands planted in the mattress to leverage them together. He came embarrassingly soon, body seizing up, waves of sensation knocking into him. Craig really wanted to fall over and nap after it happened, because hell, he'd never come so hard in his life. But Tweek deserved to get off too, and with his massive erection flagging it might take a little effort on Craig's part.

So, obviously, the answer was to pull Tweek's softening cock into his mouth and suck.

"Jesus Christ!" Tweek yelped. There was no way the rest of their house didn't hear that. Oh well. Craig wasn't planning on stopping now. That would just be rude. He sucked down as much of Tweek as he could (which seemed like less and less as Tweek got hard again) and used his hand to jack the rest while he licked and sucked with awkward, unpracticed bobs of his head.

Tweek slapped a hand over his own mouth to stifle the moan he let out when he came. Craig tried to swallow, and managed most of it, but kind of not all of it. He had to grab a wad of tissues from his bedside table to spit into and wipe his mouth.

It was all worth it for the dopey grin that Tweek gave him when he turned back to look at him again.

"W-What did you think?" asked Tweek.

"God, that was awesome," Craig said. He flopped onto his side and pulled Tweek to him, wrapped them both up in the blankets and nuzzled the side of Tweek's neck with his nose.

For a long while, they were both quiet. Sagan still spoke on the TV, his voice like a lullaby that added weight to Craig's eyelids as he went on. But before sleep could open its arms and welcome Craig against it, he heard Tweek's voice quietly say, "Hey, Craig?"

"Mm."

"Are we still fake b-boyfriends?"

"Do you wanna be?" asked Craig, opening one eye.

Tweek's lips twisted. He said, a whispered confession, "No. I wanna be real boyfriends."

"M'kay. Then we're real boyfriends," Craig yawned.

"Really?"

"Yes, really, asshole. Why else would I have said it?" Craig said.

Tweek responded with a half-hearted smack to Craig's bare shoulder. Craig almost started to drift again, but before he could fall asleep, he made sure to say, "Tweek? You're gonna get a part in the play. A good part. 'Cause, you know. You're good. At acting. N' stuff." And like some stupid sap, he kissed Tweek's cheek before his eyes drifted closed.

Craig dreamed of an astronaut and an alien.

 **Notes: Please do not use this as an accurate representation of gay sex. Also I'm sure there are errors and I'm sorry. Kind of.**


End file.
